


i'd rather chip my pride than lose my mind out here

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Background Johanna/Katniss, Catching Fire, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Finnick slides a smile over at him, every movement suddenly slow, catlike, syrupy in a way that something in his demeanor had always implied beforehand but that had decided to just now make an appearance, late to the party, and fashionably.
Relationships: Peeta Mellark/Finnick Odair
Comments: 14
Kudos: 146





	i'd rather chip my pride than lose my mind out here

**Author's Note:**

> yes i'm writing rarepair extremely horny hunger games fanfiction in 2020. no you do not need to worry about me
> 
> title is from seigfried by frank ocean

Peeta is passionate about details; he likes to study things. He likes the smell of fresh bread on warm afternoons and the right shades of pink when he’s painting. He likes trust and sappy confessions of love that don’t feel like they are in the moment and he likes Katniss Everdeen, and the latter is the most unfortunate, because he knows it makes things difficult.

Peeta supposes that a lot of things he likes are more difficult than not - it seems to be a great trend he’s caught on to - and that’s probably why he’s been paying so much attention to Finnick Odair.

Katniss avoids him almost pointedly during training, as well as Johanna Mason, who Peeta suspects likes Katniss even more than she does Finnick, somehow, judging by her infuriated remarks about how little attention she’s given her. Peeta, instead, likes details and so he watches Finnick’s Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows, he watches his hands grip on the handles of knives and tridents (Peeta thinks they’re a little on the nose, but he’s not there to judge on showmanship). He watches the angle of his jawline in different lights. The bags of his eyes that he can see when he’s close enough, even through all the makeup Finnick uses to hide them. The crinkling, too, around his eyes that’s just barely forming, only showing up when Johanna says something Peeta doesn’t know the backstory of, Finnick chortling quietly. Finnick has the sort of laugh that implies he’s in on a joke you know nothing about. Peeta isn’t sure he likes it, per say. He isn’t sure what he thinks at all.

Sometimes Finnick will try to include him in a conversation and sometimes Johanna will make a snide remark about his lack of fighting talent, but mostly Peeta practices throwing heavy things and listens. Johanna makes fun of the other tributes, all raw and cruel honesty, and Finnick pretends he’s too good for it until he glances to the side, smirks like he can’t hold it in anymore.

And Peeta is all about vulnerability, but he can see why- well.

“So,” grins Johanna, eyebrows down, mocking. “You and Everdeen have done it, huh?”

Finnick tucks his hair behind a tanned ear before throwing a spear with violent force. “Johanna.” His voice is reprimanding.

Johanna holds her hands up in a fake surrender. “Well, excuse me for wanting to know all the juicy details.” She seems to allow herself a glance in Katniss’ direction; she’s hunched over something with Beetee, not looking at her.

“Peeta’s a hopeless sweetheart who definitely isn’t going to tell us stories about his sexual escapades.” Finnick is flicking her arm with beautifully manicured fingers.

“You’re too kind,” Peeta says wryly.

“Any time,” says Finnick, his cheeky smile too white, turning back around with a masculine grace that Peeta had rarely seen in people back in 12. He’s not sure if it comes with living around Capitol high-life or if Finnick was simply born with something he’d never know. Peeta sighs.

Johanna’s eyes dart between the two of them as she picks up an axe, puts it back. “Be careful around that one, Peety. He’ll fuck anything that moves.” Finnick doesn’t seem to think this worthy of an answer, patting her shoulder in absentminded camaraderie. Johanna’s mouth twitches almost sadly. “Of course I relate, but. Not sure if he’s, well, your type, if you know what I mean.”

Peeta raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh, yeah?”

Johanna studies him for a long moment and laughs. “Not gonna fucking judge you, then.” She gestures grandly at Finnick’s backside. “Two more days until the Games, do what you want, am I fucking right?” She looks over at Katniss again and seems to deflate at little, if deflating could somehow be an act of irritation. She picks up an axe again, kicking the stand of weapons so it clangs and everyone looks over, annoyed. Johanna gives them a predatory look, delighted.

“Jo,” says Finnick, annoyed too for some reason, but Peeta suspects it isn’t because of the noise. Johanna sticks her nose into the air and ignores him, walking away to the other side of the room.

Finnick watches this and then tiredly meets Peeta’s eyes. “She likes to stir up trouble.” He saunters over to stand closer to him, opens his mouth to say something but then stops, confused. Peeta’s eyes catch on his neck, his cheeks - and when they come back around, Finnick is watching him look, almost resigned. “Oh, so we’re doing this now.”

“Doing what?” says Peeta, wetting his lips.

Finnick is unamused. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to get out of this but I think you’re unaware of our... current situation.”

“Am I,” says Peeta.

“You have a girlfriend.” Finnick’s eyes narrow.

Peeta chews at the inside of his mouth, saying nothing.

Finnick’s face flits through a catalogue of emotions and then settles on something Peeta can’t place. Peeta casually looks over his shoulder at the man from District 1, watching them curiously. Finnick nods. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” He raps at Peeta’s back with his palm, an expression common from a coworker, maybe, or a close friend, and Peeta shouldn’t shiver at the touch of his hands near his spine but he does. Finnick only gives him an annoyed look, going to find Johanna.

Peeta likes details; he knows he’s going to die, and this is why he allows himself to think about something he shouldn’t, he becomes friends with the small things like nice bone structure and strong hands because he can’t think about murder in a few days’ time, can’t think about Katniss, coldly telling him it won’t ever be real, not in the way he wants it to be. He’s going to be dead, soon. Finnick might be dead, soon. Katniss will be alive.

And so he meets him in the hallway, when it’s dark. After training.

They just look at each other for a minute, Finnick crossing his arms, refusing to get in his space like Peeta had seem him do with Katniss before the first day, with countless others in between.

“It wouldn’t be love, you know,” says Finnick finally.

Peeta leans against the wall. “Of course.”

“So you’re just-“ Finnick purses his lips together. Doesn’t finish.

“If you wanted- wanted to.” Peeta stutters, suddenly nervous. Maybe Finnick doesn’t want him, not now, it would make sense, that would be fine, Peeta figures, there are worse losses to be had- but anyway.

Finnick closes his eyes for a while. “You’re too nice for all this.” He drags his hands across his face. “You really are just too nice.”

Peeta frowns at him. Finnick laughs quietly and finally leans toward him, eyelashes long. “What’s in it for me?” His tone turns cruel. “Girl on fire not exciting enough in bed for you?”

Peeta meets his gaze, unwavering. “I wouldn’t know.”

Finnick slides a smile over at him, every movement suddenly slow, catlike, syrupy in a way that something in his demeanor had always implied beforehand but that had decided to just now make an appearance, late to the party, and fashionably.

“Okay, sure, lover boy,” he says, eyes sharp and hooded. “I’ll teach you a few things."

Peeta swallows.

-

Finnick is experienced.

“Mhmm,” he’s purring, Peeta not sure where he is anymore. “Be a little louder.” Peeta hears himself whine. He’s never heard himself make that sound before.

“What do you want to do?” says Finnick softly but not kindly. “I can keep doing this but it’s really not that exciting.” His hand is around Peeta’s cock, steadily moving with the rise of want in Peeta’s groin.

“Kiss me,” says Peeta, feeling small, but then Finnick only looks sympathetic, leaning in to press his lips softly against his.

“You must get told this a lot,” whispers Finnick, “but you really are pretty.”

Peeta simply looks at him, cheeks reddening. “Oh.”

Finnick seems only the tiniest bit embarrassed, and even then Peeta doesn’t trust it; Finnick wears too many layers of personality to be worth unpacking. Mostly he just maneuvers his tongue into Peeta’s mouth, smug smile able to be felt without looking at it.

After a while, Finnick trails his tongue out from between Peeta’s lips down around his chin, Peeta shivering. He brings a finger up to brush against Peeta’s nipples; Peeta gasps.

“I thought you’d like it all soft and tender,” mumbles Finnick thoughtfully. “Good boy like you.”

Peeta feels himself turn red, blood pounding in his cheeks, but lets out a small noise anyway. “Sorry,” he says, so embarrassed when Finnick pulls back to study him.

Finnick laughs at him, not quite unkind. “Don’t apologize.” He quirks up an eyebrow at him. “Just tell me when you don’t like something.”

Peeta knows that Finnick likes attention by the set of his shoulders, by the way he holds back a smile when Peeta runs a hand through his hair. He isn’t sure what to do with this, though, so he lets Finnick take the lead.

“Hm,” says Finnick, licking his lips, a shadow of Johanna’s look before she threw an axe. Peeta wonders who this man really is, what he really wants. The light is so low, his certainty is lower. He feels his mind try to take a walk outside, open the door - he pulls it back. Finnick leans in to whisper in his ear. “Suck my dick.”

Peeta looks at him. “I’ve never-“ He blinks a few times.

“Sure you haven’t.” Finnick’s eyes are dancing to songs Peeta can’t hear, reflections on pupils in the dark. “But you know what you would like, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” says Peeta nervously.

“Then unbutton my pants."

Peeta reaches over and does. Peeta stares at Finnick’s boxers too long and Finnick sniffs at him like he finds this amusing. “Hurry up, District Twelve. I’m hard.”

Peeta hasn’t really heard anyone say something like that before. His throat is dry as he pulls down the waistband and Finnick’s cock springs free. Peeta bites at the inside of his cheek for a second, leans down to give it a lick.

“That’s _perfect_ ,” says Finnick, sighing, delighted.

Peeta looks up at him through his eyelashes. “I’ve barely done anything.”

“And you’re waiting for what, exactly?” Finnick shifts on the bed. The lights from outside the window seem to follow the movement, frame him in just the right way. He seems to know it’s so.

Peeta rolls his eyes and Finnick seems even more pleased as he licks another tentative stripe across his dick. Finnick’s got hair above his dick, has got nice balls. Peeta’s too focused on starting to suck to think about the strangeness of his internal monologue, the newness of the body in front of him.

“Yeah, baby,” Finnick’s saying, watching him twitch around his dick. “Do whatever you _want.”_ Peeta lets spit pool around the tip of his cock, reveling in the groan Finnick lets out when he focuses on his slit, reaches to grab his balls.

“I wonder what you think about,” says Finnick, breathless but sly, “when you’re touching your own dick.” Peeta doesn’t pull away to reply. “I heard Johanna stripped in front of you three in the elevator. She told me how observant you were.”

Peeta pulls away then. “I didn’t-“ He frowns at Finnick.

Finnick’s voice is so low. “Sure.”

“What do you want me to say? That I wish it was you, naked in that elevator?” Peeta meets his gaze.

Finnick’s cock moves, they both watch it happen. “Sure,” he says again, leering.

“You like being looked at, don’t you,” says Peeta, almost resigned, watching Finnick lean back on his hands and grin, a shark with expensive sheets for an ocean.

“I wouldn’t say I don’t.” Finnick wraps a lazy hand around his cock. “The things you like are much more boring, who are you to complain?”

“Boring,” repeats Peeta, frown going deeper.

“Uh huh,” says Finnick, biting his lip.

Peeta considers him. “I really don’t know you at all.” Finnick only narrows his eyes, putting on an expression of pretend - and this time Peeta knows it’s so - amusement. “And you’re not going to let me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” says Finnick, suddenly solemn, getting in Peeta’s face. His voice goes husky, gravelly, unfamiliar to Peeta in the exciting way it’s all been, in the exciting way he saw Finnick’s hand clench when Peeta met him in the hallway. “You’re the one with the secrets.”

Peeta considers Finnick and his bronzed arms and his perfect hair and the vibrato in his words for a while and then says, “I don’t like you.”

“I see,” says Finnick, unmoved. He tilts his head, gives him an over-the-top pout. “But you want to fuck me.” He spreads his legs out, mouth twitching.

Peeta can’t look away from his hand, spreading pre-cum around his dick. “What did you say to Katniss that one time?”

“Nothing interesting, trust me,” says Finnick, voice light.

“I’m not going to trust you.” Peeta lets Finnick take his hand, suck on his fingers.

Finnick slides Peeta’s hand all over his chest. “Never thought you’d be turned on by this heartfelt banter, but I should’ve, considering.”

“Ugh,” says Peeta. “I’m not turned on by that. I’m turned on by all the other stuff you’re doing.” Finnick is basically making out with the palm of his hand.

“Good. I mean, what’s it all for if I can’t get Peeta Mellark off?” Finnick huffs, puts Peeta’s hand over his cock, interrupts his questions with, “You like this, don’t you?”

“What,” says Peeta, watching his full hand move around.

“You want it bad.” Finnick thrusts into his hand, watching Peeta’s reaction. “You’re gonna be so wet and tight for me, aren’t you, baby?”

Peeta swallows again, Finnick’s eyes following the route of his throat, moving quickly. He knows what prey looks like. He’s a winner, they’re all winners. “Yeah,” he says, impatient, “I’m gonna fuck you, aren’t I?”

Peeta looks at him, heart thumping.

“I am, huh?” says Finnick, spitting in his own hand and suddenly on Peeta’s dick, stroking slowly, easily.

“Mm hm,” says Peeta finally, closing his eyes as Finnick sucks on his nipple, expression focused, earnest.

Finnick swirls his tongue. “Yeah,” he says, satisfied. A hand kneads Peeta’s ass, Peeta thrusting into the other. Finnick touches his balls. “I know what you like now, isn’t this fun?”

“Real fun,” says Peeta, cheeky even as Finnick slides a finger into his ass, lube all over it. “When’d you-“

“Don’t worry about it,” says Finnick, sucking at his shoulder. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Yeah,” gasps Peeta. “Do that.” Finnick chuckles with the next finger. “Don’t stop, God-“

“Desperate for it, are we?” Finnick says softly, taking his lips in between his teeth. “I know you are.” Peeta shakes beneath him.

“Want you-“

“Yeah, you want me?” Finnick smiles at him. “Good boy.” Peeta mumbles something incoherent, grabbing blindly for Finnick’s dick. “Fine, I’ll fuck you.”

“You’re having- too much of a good- time-“ Peeta moans as Finnick’s cock slides into him, and it _is_ tight, he’s not sure how long-

“It’s not every day I get to be with someone like you,” agrees Finnick, and even through the haze of arousal Peeta knows there’s something else there, but Finnick is moving inside him, picking up the pace and he’s distracted.

After a while Peeta realizes that he’s being extremely loud, covering his mouth. Even between heavy breaths and a sheen of sweat, Finnick laughs at him, replaces his hand with his own. “Bite me if-“ a moan- “if you want.”

Peeta does want. Finnick moves faster, looking at him. “Touch me, c’mon.” Peeta touches him, runs his hands down his legs and over his ass, anywhere, over his chest, over his cock. Finnick sighs, charmed.“Yeah.”

Peeta pays attention to Finnick’s balls, hitting the edge of his hole. “Faster, Finnick-“

“My name?” Finnick pants. “Must be close.” But he does go faster, despite an almost-reluctance at first.

“So close,” agrees Peeta, pressing a kiss to Finnick’s neck, vaguely noticing a moment of wide eyes, presumably at the sudden vulnerability in affection.

Finnick ducks his head, presses Peeta into the mattress. “You feel so good.” Peeta is probably drooling. “Yeah, really _good._ ”

Peeta can feel himself clench around his cock. “Keep- keep-“

Finnick pulls out, eyes on fire, leans back. “I want to cum all over your fucking chest. And you’re gonna let me because you’re so good.” He tilts his head to the side, breath thin, Peeta watching, barely moving, chest heaving. “Wait, let’s do this.” Finnick takes both of their cocks in his hand, the sound of the slide obscenely loud in the dark room. “Fuck.”

Peeta feels the same. He kisses him sloppily. Finnick moves his hand faster. “Wanna cum with you. Do you wanna cum?”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Peeta, eyes watering, how embarrassing. He can’t remember to be embarrassed.

Finnick moans. “Mm, yeah,” he says, cum shooting all over the both of them, Peeta riding the waves of orgasm at the same time.

“Well,” says Finnick when they’ve settled down. “At least I forgot about all this shit for, what, an hour.”

Peeta turns his body towards him. “Thank you.”

Finnick’s mouth goes tight. “Enough of that.”

“Okay,” says Peeta, shrugging a little. He stares at the ceiling.

Finnick moves his hands under his pillow, below his head. The bed is too huge for even two people. Peeta doesn’t want to think about who had built it, who it was for. Finnick reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind Peeta’s ear. “What are you going to do?”

“About what?” Peeta wishes he could follow his thoughts, out the window and into the wind.

“One of you is not getting out of there alive.”

“Her, obviously.”

Finnick doesn’t seem to enjoy this answer. “Makes sense.”

“Want to be my ally?” Peeta is so tired.

“Ha!” Finnick almost spits at him. “Thought that was implied, Romeo.”

“Oh. Uh.” Peeta tries to find a catch.

“No catch,” says Finnick after a moment. “You two are useful. Going to get a lot of sponsors. That helps.” Finnick rolls over. “Katniss isn’t going to trust me.”

“She does hate you.” Peeta thinks of Effie’s bracelet. “I have a plan. Sort of.”

Finnick sits up slowly. “How exciting.”


End file.
